


shall we dance.

by dodono



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, implied virtual reality AU, self indulgent fic, two nerds dancing at 3 am. more at 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13265037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodono/pseuds/dodono
Summary: “Dance with me,” he says, once she’s standing next to him. His grin is bright, brighter than any smile he’s plastered on his face the last few years.“I can’t dance,” Maki responds.“That’s fine, I can’t either,” Kaito admits, and he reaches out for her hand while the other settles on her waist. He pulls her closer and briefly breaks their hold to place her unoccupied hand onto his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure this is how it works.”--Kaito changes up their night routine.





	shall we dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Very self-indulgent. I've been in a big Harumota mood lately and they're my comfort ship. It's all good.
> 
> At one point Maki uses "Kaito-kun". That's on purpose it's just headcanons.

The glass cup hits the table sloppily, causing some of the liquid inside to splatter out. Kaito can’t remember the last time he’d slept. Maybe it was yesterday, but he also remembers drinking last night (or today early morning, whatever) so he probably didn’t even snooze for long. 

The small television playing in front of him has its volume kept at a minimum in order not to wake up the other occupant of the apartment. The show on-screen hasn’t managed to capture Kaito’s attention since he’s turned on the TV, so he switches the channels, eyes glazed over as his thumb idly presses the button on the remote. 

At the mention of the show’s name, Kaito freezes, only to regain his composure when the remote hits the floorboards loudly. He curses, bending down to pick it up, hoping the noise hadn’t travelled to the bedroom down the hall.  _ DanganRonpa _ has ended, he reminds himself. Saihara had done so, nearly three years ago, spending hours and hours slaving over his computer researching and typing and shit until fatigued and on the verge of passing out. But he had done it, ended the game for sure before team  _ DanganRonpa _ could rebuild their ruined set. 

Yet, he always expects the fifty-fourth season to be announced whenever he hears the title. It’s really just some news reporter interviewing blood-thirsty teenagers on their thoughts about the series’ cancellation. “Get over it,” Kaito growls under his breath, though he’s unsure as to whether the words are directed to the fans or himself. Shutting the TV off, he lazily tosses the remote onto the side, watching as the object bounces slightly once it hits the couch cushion. He should probably check up on Maki, and he does so, rising from the couch and stretching upwards, yawning loudly. Kaito makes his way over to their shared bedroom— not that he really utilized the room— and completely ignores the way he stumbles and nearly trips over his feet at least twice. 

Maki sleeps more often than not. Kaito supposes that’s good, that she’s sleeping enough for two people. More than two, really, as she sleeps early and wakes late, and Kaito makes a mental note to research whether or not that much slumber is healthy. 

Frequent check-ups were a routine he’d created. It’s a better use of his time than laying around and downing alcohol, and Maki needs it. Her nightmares are quiet and long-lasting, something he had discovered a few days after he’d started sharing the same bed as her. It consists of heavy breathing and silent tears, and Kaito often wonders with a heavy heart at how long she had to endure her pain before he began his check-ups. 

Pushing the door open, he slips inside and is greeted with the sight of Maki writhing on the bed, the sheets tangled in a mess. Kaito swallows the lump in his throat before making his way over. She lays in the middle of the mattress, face damp with cold sweat and tears, and Maki releases a small whimper, but otherwise remains relatively noiseless. Her right arm sticks out in search of a vice, and Kaito feels guilty because that’s his spot and he knows she’s unconsciously reaching for him, but he hasn’t been sleeping there for quite some time. He doesn’t think he deserves to be needed, to be someone important in her life, but she continues to latch onto him and Kaito can’t bring himself to cut all ties. Deep down, he knows he needs her, too. 

Bringing his own hand down onto the bed, he waits until her arm collides with him. When it does, her smaller fingers immediately grip onto his hand securely, almost resembling a child holding their parent’s. Maki looks so small when vulnerable, even when her breathing finally evens out and her movements slow to a stop, turning her body and curling up against his arm. Leaning over slightly, Kaito strokes her head, brushing away the dark strands of hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead, his thumb swiping against the frown between her eyebrows until it unfurrows. 

“Harumaki,” he says gently, his hand traveling to her shoulder to shake her awake. “Wake up, Harumaki.” As if on cue, Maki’s eyes flutter open, revealing hazy, distant eyes. Kaito bends down and presses a soft kiss on her head, sighing in relief against her hair. The hand wrapped around his tighten momentarily. “Hey there,” he greets, smiling a smile that strains at the corner of his lips. For a moment, he’s glad she’s still disoriented from sleep to notice how uneasy he feels. 

“Hey,” she murmurs back, blinking slowly. She rubs her eyes with her free hand and asks, “what happened?”

“You had a nightmare,” he replies, and through the faint light of the hallway illuminating her features, he sees her frown and mouth the last word of his response in confusion. “Do ya remember what it was about?”

“It was… I, I lost you.”  _ Again _ , it hangs in the air between them. “That’s all I can really recall,” she says, and he believes her because once the same dream happens over and over, all she can remember is the end result, not how it got there. She shifts closer to him, staring off in silence as she attempts to recollect herself. By the time she does, Maki removes her hand from his (Kaito feels empty the moment she pulls away, cold air taking place of her warmth) and sits up. Kaito notices her nose scrunch up, and he’s figured out her next words before they’ve even left her mouth. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Haven’t been sleepin’ well, y’know.”

Their roles switch, Maki now rubbing his back to comfort him when that was what Kaito had done mere minutes ago. “You should probably,” she pauses, wondering what the best way to phrase her concerns is. Kaito’s notorious for his short-temper, so he can’t blame her. “Stop… that habit. I’m here for you if you ever need help.”

“You already have your burdens, Harumaki, that’s not fair to ya.”

Maki entwines their hands together once more, bringing it up to her lips where she softly brushes them against the faint scars on his knuckles. Kaito’s heart skips a beat. “Don’t think I don’t know you check on me every night, Kaito-kun. I’ll just be, returning the favor, yeah?” He nods, but it’s a false confirmation; he doesn’t have the heart to place more stress on her frail shoulders, but a simple lie such as this would keep her satisfied for now.

Suddenly, Maki’s stomach growls, and she flushes from embarrassment while Kaito chuckles, clearly amused. She went to sleep particularly early and skipped dinner, leaving him to eat alone. “Hungry?” he asks, and she nods with a slight pout. “There’s leftover curry, I’ll go ‘nd heat it up. Take your time, ‘kay?”

By the time the microwave beeps, Maki’s shuffling out into the dining room, her sock-clad feet sliding across the floorboards. He hands her the bowl of rice and curry and they make their way to the couch. Maki props the bowl on her lap, occasionally taking heaping spoonfuls of food to eat. Kaito, on the other hand, rests his head on her shoulder with his eyes fixed on the TV, though the only sounds he pays attention to are the contented hums originating from her. 

A couple appears on screen— Kaito thinks it’s a movie on a musical, but he never focuses on television when his mind is hazy and he’s half-asleep— and they dance. It’s some fancy-schmancy choreography, one that’ll he’ll never perfect no matter how many times he would practice, but it sparks an idea in his head.

Kaito turns off the television and stands up, and Maki stares at him with an arched eyebrow. He gestures at her to put down her curry and to rise. 

“Dance with me,” he says, once she’s standing next to him. His grin is bright, brighter than any smile he’s plastered on his face the last few years.

“I can’t dance,” Maki responds, and her tone is identical to the time where they visited America and she had told him, rather panicked, that she didn’t know any English.

“That’s fine, I can’t either,” Kaito admits, and he reaches out for her hand while the other settles on her waist. He pulls her closer and briefly breaks their hold to place her unoccupied hand onto his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure this is how it works.” Slowly, he takes one step back and taking the hint, she takes one step forward. They repeat, rocking back and forth awkwardly. Kaito steps on her feet and Maki nearly trips over his; they’re a duo of drunk and sleep-deprived adults, but it’s the happiest either of them have been in a while.

The apartment is completely silent, save for the creaky floorboards and Kaito’s god awful humming. It’s absolutely terrible. He’s completely off-tune and on the higher notes, his voice cracks, especially since he’s humming quietly so it stays between the two of them. But Maki chuckles. Her laugh is breathy and soft and so, so  _ genuine _ and that’s all Kaito cares about. It’s worth butchering some random American pop song he can’t remember the name of and making a fool out of himself. 

“Your singing is horrendous,” she comments after a fit of giggles. Maki presses herself closer to him, resting her head on his chest. Kaito’s arm curls around her waist, keeping her in place.

“But ya like it, don’t you,” he says, a statement rather than a question. Kaito turns his head and presses a kiss to her temple, holding it longer than either had expected. He feels her fingers grip the back of his t-shirt tightly.

“Yeah.” Maki looks up at him, eyes sparkling with adoration. “I really do.”

It’s silly. Two broken adults swaying mindlessly to what can barely be qualified as a song in the ungodly hours of the morning while the rest of the apartment complex is sleeping. But, lost in their own little world, there’s nothing but comfort and promises that aren’t empty.

And Kaito thinks that’s good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm dying.


End file.
